


Time to Burn

by PharaohZ (Lizzie1498)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Hook, Anxiety Disorder, Beating, Blood and Injury, Bottom Rick Grimes, Branding, Burns, Crazy Rick Grimes, Dom Simon (Walking Dead: Saviors), Dominance, Drug Abuse, Drug Withdrawal, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fear, Forced Orgasm, Forced Submission, Gentle Negan (Walking Dead), Hurt Daryl Dixon, Hurt Michonne (Walking Dead), Hurt Rick, Hurt Rick Grimes, Hypothermia, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Painful Sex, Possessive Negan (Walking Dead), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Play, Protective Negan (Walking Dead), Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Rick Grimes Needs a Hug, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Submission, Torture, Violation, Whipping, Zombies, anal rape, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzie1498/pseuds/PharaohZ
Summary: When Negan leaves Simon in charge of Alexandria's pickups Rick must choose between his own safety and his community.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes/Michonne, Rick Grimes/Michonne, Rick Grimes/Negan, Rick Grimes/Simon (Walking Dead: Saviors)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

It started on the first visit without Negan. The trucks pulled up to the gate and the town scattered and scurried into their houses, doing their best to avoid direct paths with any of the saviours. Essential personnel only. Rick sighed as he approached trying his best to keep his face neutral as the men spilled out. Negan’s booming voice never came, instead Simon led the crows through the gate. He stood tall with a sleazy smirk that never failed to make Rick uncomfortable. He didn’t trust Simon in the slightest. He could trust Negan to be consistent. Disobedience leads to punishment. Simon was unpredictable. He’d have to bite his tongue. 

“Good Morning, Grimes.” Simon beamed, waltzing up to Rick and clapping him too hard on the shoulder. 

“Where’s Negan?” Rick asked.

“I’m Negan.” Simon smirked, his tongue leaping out between his lips. Rick couldn't hide the annoyance that glanced across his features. 

Simon smiled with poison in between his teeth. Rick knew better than to pursue this ridiculous name game. He schooled his annoyance and waited.

“Do you have a problem with me, Rick?” Simon stepped in, pushing in another when Rick took a step back. “Because I thought we were friends, Rick. We’re friends, right?” Simon’s face was far too close. His voice held a friendly cadence but Rick could taste the gasoline. Rick could smell his breath. 

Rick nodded, nervously aware of the little crowd beginning to form nearby, watching them. 

Simon’s eyes held madness. Rage. He’s seen him explode. He was dangerous in a different way than Negan. He was tactless and anxious to be on top. The friction of his hands could ignite instantly. Negan put on a show because he enjoys it. Simon, Rick realizes, needs to make a show. 

“Show me what you got me, Rick.” Simon’s hand gripped his belt tightly. 

“Stuff’s this way.” Rick grumbled and led the way only to have Simon rush behind in quick strides. 

“What’s the rush for? Let me enjoy the view for a second.” He lacked Negan’s charm. Rick’s exhaustion from scavenging these past weeks held his tongue. He let Simon wrap an arm around his shoulders and lead them. He felt nauseous at the mood swing. He’d have to walk a fine line and get through the pick up as painlessly as possible. 

Rick had zoned out while Simon blabbered until he mentioned Negan, “...He’s leading a mission to settle some bad blood with an old acquaintance.”

He didn’t begin with any questions. He figured Simon would tell him as much as he was allowed. 

“Which means,” he continued with a sneer, “I’m in charge now.” They had walked behind the houses and were close by the gardens. Rick could smell the strawberries. He wondered what was so serious that Negan himself would leave his people to settle personally. 

“You don’t look so good, Grimes.” Simon grabbed his face in a one handed inspection and gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. Rick was grateful they were alone in the gardens. He never appreciated Negan’s displays of control, although now he’d much rather have Negan annoying him instead of Simon’s mean gripped examination. He’d tear his jaw out of his hand if he had the strength but he learned to pick his battles when dealing with men like these. He’d remain docile to avoid an explosion. 

“Havin’ to go farther out for supplies. Wiped everything within a day's ride clean. Hard to keep up.” He was too drained to measure his voice. He couldn’t quite keep out the bite. 

Simon smirked but let go of his face and he instantly felt relieved.

“Everyone has to do their share, Rick. Alexandria has been doing very well. You always bring me the best toys. And that good ass lemonade.” Simon took in every inch of Rick. Even exhausted and sweaty he was nice to look at. He could smell the sweat on him but he imagined licking the damp skin that dipped into the hollow of his collar. He could make Rick  _ beg _ him for it. He was weak. Negan made him beg. 

“You’re running a fine community here. The Sanctuary is satisfied with your contributions.” Simon was circling him but stopped and spoke seriously, then. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Rick must have imagined Simon’s lips whispering in his ear, his wet breath moistening his skin. He dared not make any sudden movements with Simon’s arm suddenly so closely secured low across his neck. It looked like a harmless embrace, but Rick could feel the flex in Simon’s arm that promised force if necessary.

“Show me what you found, Rick.” Simon gestured and Rick swallowed. His large hand slipped teasingly across Rick’s chest and released him. He took in a measured breath of air and led them to the tribute. He forced himself to calm as he trudged towards the storerooms. 

The men loaded up the supplies and took inventory as Rick watched them clean out nearly everything he had scavenged in the past week. Days worth of work and sleepless nights spent pushing himself further out. He often went alone so they could cover more ground. Only him though, he wouldn’t allow the others to risk themselves. Michonne had worn him down hard for that decision but now, from afar she watched them cart away the supplies and knew he was right. They’d have never met the tribute if he hadn’t ventured off. He could handle it. He had to be better for everyone. 

Simon was flaunting his power, ordering people and making a show of their pillaging. Rick kept quiet. Soon they were closing up the doors of the trucks and piling back in. He hadn’t realized Simon was watching him.

“Good man.” He reached up around his shoulder and snaked his hand to the back of Rick’s neck.

“You keep behaving like this and I’ll take good care of you, Rick.” He spoke quietly, his hand giving a familiar squeeze. He left with a wink too quickly for Rick to process how wrong that felt. He noticed as the gate was pulled close and the last truck pulled away that his hand trembled. He brushed it off as the typical strange behavior of the sanctuary and retreated to his house in hopes of sleeping. 

“What’d he say to you?” Michonne’s voice was gentle and concerned but Rick hid his flinch well. 

“He’s satisfied. With the tribute.” Rick nodded but didn’t look at her. His eyes trained on the dust billowing up through the gate. 

~0~

“Rick! Good Morning!” Simon strutted in two weeks later with the same beaming smile. Rick groaned softly to himself. The sun was so bright, he could barely blink his eyes open as he approached the gate. Michonne had nearly force-fed him some pain pills with their meager breakfast. He was aching and sore from a last minute run. It had been successful and they retrieved some decent supplies, but the residence was worn and long-abandoned and Rick had taken a hard fall down rotting stairs that had splintered underneath him and sent him rolling. He hadn’t suffered any serious trauma but his pride and his back were straining. 

Rick nodded curtly. 

Simon feigned injury. “Do I not deserve a good morning, Rick?” 

He didn’t like how Simon said his name. He made it sound like an insult. 

“Good mornin’, Simon.” Rick muttered as Simon approached way too quickly and stepped in far too close for how little they knew each other. Rick figured it was an intimidation thing he picked up from Negan, another powerplay. He towered over Rick easily and enjoyed how much smaller he knew he could make Rick feel by taking that extra step, forcing him to tilt his head back to maintain eye contact. Rick was fighting that now, looking somewhere into Simon’s chest. 

“Look at me.” He whispered. There was no one near enough to hear them but Rick suddenly felt like everyone could hear his breathing. Rick obediently looked him in the eyes, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. He was too fragile for this right now. Something in Simon’s eye’s sparked sharply and Rick sensed an explosion was fast-approaching. 

“Good boy.” Simon chuckled at Rick’s expression. His eyes narrowed but his cheeks pinkened. 

“You remember what I said last time, don’t you?” Simon murmured and Rick was frighteningly aware of how exposed he was and did this look how it felt? He could feel Simon’s heat between their bellies. His breath on his face. He wanted to step back but he couldn’t show weakness here, not anymore anyhow. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Tribute is this way.” He gestured but stayed where he was. Simon smiled with teeth and gestured with a nod for him to lead, which he did reluctantly and with the odd feeling of being pursued. 

He used the separation to catch his breath. Simon had always rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t like this game. He was helpless. Alexandria wasn’t in any position for potentially worse treatment. If he stepped out of line it was likely not only would he face the repercussions, but the whole community. He would have to suck it up and ride this out. Negan had always been there on center stage, Rick never had the chance to see Simon outside of Negan’s shadow. Now, as the current commander-in-chief Rick was receiving the brunt end of a pent up ego swinging wildly. 

“Y’know, Rick. I’d sure like to see your house.” Rick froze in his steps. He turned and steeled himself against that look that Simon gave him. He was stunned stupid, he didn’t know what to say.  _ He’s bold. _

“Why?” He muttered and was satisfied with the growl in his voice. 

“I’m starving, was on the road early and barely had a chance for coffee.” Simon seemed to be undressing him in his mind, his tongue peeking obscenely between teeth, clearly checking him out. Rick resisted the urge to squirm. He hated this. He would kill Simon. He could do it right now. 

“I’d sure appreciate a bite to eat, Rick.” His voice was softer than it had been but lacked any awkwardness at his bold request.

“Take your tribute and leave.” Rick growled. Simon backhanded him immediately. 

Rick froze, the slap shocking him silent for a long moment. It stung terribly but he kept his hands by his sides. 

“Don’t be rude, Rick. Remember your place.” Simon snapped, spittle flying from his lips and Rick was grateful they had managed to get out of the main entrance. He could feel the heat of tears prickling in his eyes.

Simon admired the dark mark on Rick’s face, it would bruise hopefully. Negan was still on the hunt. He had time to burn. Rick could prove to be an entertaining passage of time. He wanted Rick. He had the power. 

“Let’s make breakfast.” He held Rick firmly by the back of the neck and kept him close as Rick reluctantly led them to his and Michonne’s house. 

Rick swallowed hard, the lump in his throat hardening. They had no weapons, they were easily outmanned. Even if he were to scream for help, what would happen? Simon was armed. With his current state he didn’t doubt Simon could overpower him easily if he disobeyed. He would have to play along and play submissive until Simon was satisfied and would leave. He could swallow his pride for a little longer. 

They entered the house from the back. Rick wanted to avoid as many eyes as possible. He was grateful Judith was with Carol and the other children. During pickups he made it a rule to have the children corralled and as far away from everything as possible. Simon had released his grip but stayed directly behind him, murmuring something about his shaking hands as he opened the door. 

“Just tired is all.” He kept his gaze slightly lowered and stepped aside to allow Simon in. Simon watched him for a moment before welcoming himself inside and exploring the meager furniture and belongings. 

“I like your place, Rick. Real humble. Cozy.” He had picked up and was inspecting a small statue that Carl had found on a run and couldn’t part with. Rick bit his cheek and willed him to put it down which he did after glancing back at Rick.

“You cook, Rick?” Simon looked at him expectantly. Rick imagined digging both his thumbs into his jugular and watching his eyes roll back. 

“Sure.” Rick walked into the kitchen and turned on the stove, steeling himself to appear friendly and get him the hell out. “What would you like? Afraid we have no meat.” 

Simon sat at the table and picked up an egg out of the basket. 

“Y’all have chickens?” He inspected the eggs amusedly. 

Rick nodded, “A few.” 

Simon smiled serpentine, “Eggs are fine.” Rick took three from the basket and placed them to the side, turning to reach into the cabinet for oil. 

Rick poured a few drops of oil in the skillet and set it on the burner. As it warmed he prepared a fresh roll that Carol had made for them yesterday. He resented that it would feed Simon and not one of his people but he cut it in half and set it on a plate. 

He heard movement behind him and watched Simon smile at him and cross around the table to stand to Rick’s left and lean on the counter. He wordlessly picked up an egg, cracking it in one shot and opening it in one hand before discarding the shell. 

“Oh, you’re an expert, I see.” Simon pulled his face into a very admirable expression. Rick ignored him and cracked another one. 

“What’s the matter, Rick? You seem upset. Was it because I had to discipline you?” Simon huffed and Rick’s neck singed hot with anger. He cracked the third egg hard. 

“Are you gonna answer me, Rick?” Simon had stepped closer and Rick’s heart thumped in his chest so loud he feared Simon could hear. 

“I’m just tired…” He murmured and mustered enough energy to look Simon in the eye for a moment before the electricity in his gaze zapped him back to frying the eggs. They gurgled and popped. 

“You’re lying to me. I can see it.” Simon muttered and grabbed Rick’s chin to get a look at the bruise mottling his cheek. He whistled appreciatively. Rick immediately wrenched his face out of his grip and his body went cold as he realized what he’d done but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Don’t touch me.” He whispered viciously. His voice didn’t belong to him. He froze with his white-knuckled hand gripping the frying pan handle and glaring into the stuttering eggs. “Please.” He added, hoping to lessen the blow.

Simon was silent and still for a moment. For a moment Rick imagined he’d let it go. He would eat and leave. 

Suddenly, Simon rushed him. He held Rick’s wrist with the pan in an iron grip and a handful of his hair in the other. Before he could process the attack, Simon beat his wrist onto the edge of the stove and he dropped the pan with a cry. It clattered to the floor and got kicked across the room as they grappled and slammed into the counter. Simon had Rick pinned, bent backwards over the counter, hissing and spitting in his face. Rick hissed as his back spasmed painfully, but he refused to give in despite his weakness. He kicked out feebly. Hiked up like this his toes barely scrabbled along the floor unable to catch purchase. Simon grabbed him by the throat, lifting his head and striking him into the counter once. Again. 

His vision went dark, only for a few moments, because he was still stretched over the counter and Simon was still pinning him. Any strength had left him in a flood and he limply pawed at whatever he could reach in an attempt to escape. Simon’s face was close to his, he didn’t catch a word of what he was saying. The pain in his head muted his senses and he struggled to get control of his body. Something wet slopped in his ear then slid down his neck and he jolted as he realized with horror it was Simon’s mouth. His fear overcame his pain and he struggled briefly and weakly, Simon easily pinning his arms above his head as he continued to lap at his skin. 

“Easy, Rick. Let me have it.” Simon whispered and caressed the side of his face. He wanted to scream but he could barely breathe with the weight of Simon forcing him down. He wriggled and squirmed but he was boxed in and hugely overpowered. 

“Get off me.” He rasped and snapped his teeth when Simon licked into his ear again. He pulled his head back in time to avoid getting bit on the cheek. He pinned Rick’s head back sharply with a yank of his hair and chuckled when Rick gasped.

“Don’t be mean, baby. I can make you feel so good.” Simon reached in between their bodies and cupped Rick with a large hand. He jolted hard. Simon grinned and enjoyed Rick’s face break as he palmed him. 

“St-stop that-” Rick’s hips jerked. He could feel himself trembling against Simon’s unforgiving body.

“Just relax. I’ll take good care of you, Rick.” Simon continued to work him, long fingers pulling at his button. Simon’s grip on his wrists had loosened enough that he slipped one free and boxed him on the ear. Simon took the blow easily, the swing was solid and he hissed in pain.

“You little fuck. You want to make this difficult?” He stood up, dragging Rick with him, who would have fallen if he hadn’t been held. Simon wrestled him against the edge of the stove, using his hips to push Rick’s own harshly against the oven door. He had an elbow locked around Rick’s throat and a crushing grasp on his wrist. Before he could think Simon was pressing Rick’s palm into the hot burner and he screamed viciously. He struggled violently before Simon released him and he crumpled to the floor, cradling his hand to his chest. He watched Rick gasping on the floor with dark eyes and a terrifying look of hunger. The only sound was their harsh breathing and the terrible sounds bubbling in Rick’s throat. 

“What the hell is going on?” Michonne growled in the open doorway. Rick flinched and attempted to sit up but only managed to look at her. Simon froze for a moment before he flashed her a grin and smoothed his hair back. He spared a final glance at Rick and left quickly, pushing past her without another word. 

“Rick, baby.” Michonne rushed to his side as soon as the door closed and gasped when she saw his face. 

“When-” He croaked. Michonne understood immediately. 

“I heard you scream as I was coming up the stairs. I was wondering where you’d gone and I came lookin’.” Michonne eased him on his back. He was shaking. Tears streaked his cheeks and he looked scared. Terrified. She flared with rage at the dark bruise on his cheek. 

“What happened?” She left his side to turn off the stove and dampen a rag. She crouched down to him and wiped the blood streaming down his nose and at the corner of his mouth. 

“ I- don’t know.” He didn’t continue and she didn’t push yet. She cleaned him and soothed a hand through his hair, pulling away to find blood on her fingers. 

“Rick...Come here.” She pulled him carefully up to sit and he swayed. She maneuvered behind him and parted his hair, a bloody gash low on his skull was sluggishly trailing down his neck. 

“Can you stand up, baby?” She turned to face him and held his face gently, searching his eyes. They drifted and fluttered. He shook his head weakly.

“M’dizzy.” He murmured and looked at her sadly.

“Okay, honey. Just stay here, I’ll be right back.” Michonne hushed him and pressed the cool rag to the back of his head, kissing his forehead sweetly when he hissed. 

“Hold this here. Don’t move.” His expression was tight and he shook his head slowly.

She hurried to the infirmary, gathering supplies. The trucks were gone. She’d kill Simon. 

She ignored the nurse’s protest and took what she needed. She was just leaving when she rounded the corner into Daryl. 

“Come with me.” She muttered and he followed. 

“Whose blood is that?” He watched her expression carefully. 

She gave him a worried gaze, “Rick.”

“What happened?” 

“I don’t know.”

They entered the house and Rick was obediently sitting where she left him, eyes closed, hand pressed to his head still. Daryl knelt next to him, pulling him up straight to lean back against his chest. 

“It’s me, take it easy.” He murmured when Rick flinched at the sudden handling. He took the rag from Rick’s hand and handed it to Michonne to freshen. 

Rick was slumping to one side, he shook in Daryl’s arms. He could easily feel the tight muscles bunching. 

“Hurt your back?” he asked and smoothed a large hand over the tender muscle. 

Rick only nodded, eyes pinched closed as he attempted to even his breaths. Daryl inspected his face over his shoulder, grimacing at the dark slap mark to his face. The large fingers easily visible stretching across his pale cheek. He carefully held Rick’s burnt hand, soothing him when he curled his fingers. 

“I ain’t gonna hurt you. Let me see.” Daryl hummed encouragingly when he unfurled his hand. The skin was dark red and swelling, beads of blood swelled up from the split skin. Blisters bubbled up on the meat of his palm. 

“C’mere.” Daryl wrapped his arms carefully and pulled them both to stand. Rick’s legs planted widely and stumbled when Daryl led them to the sink. He turned on the cool water and softly guided Rick’s hand under the stream, hushing him when he hissed sharply.

He tried pulling his hand away at first but the water eventually eased the sharp sting and he let Daryl clean him without protest. If Daryl hadn’t been supporting his weight he would have crumpled. His knees trembled weakly and his back wrenched tightly had him stiff and off balance. He wanted to cry. Simon would be back. He didn’t want to explain the full details of the attack and upset Michonne and Daryl further. 

Daryl brought him to the couch and eased him down, he rigidly lowered himself on his side and groaned when he settled. Michonne finished cleaning the blood on his face and chest while Daryl carefully tended his hand. He reluctantly swallowed the pills that Michonne pushed past his lips. Soon, his eyelids began to weigh heavily, straining to stay open. 

“Go to sleep, baby. It’s all fine.” Michonne smiled sweetly at him and placed a warm hand across his eyes. 

He attempted to shake his head, “I gotta- There’s more-” He trailed off, tongue sluggish with the drugs and exhaustion. 

“Hush.” She sat on the floor in front of the couch and twirled a lock of his curls like he enjoyed and within moments his breathing was deep. 

She continued to twirl his hair, watching his chest rise and fall. The mark on his cheek had darkened in certain points, the crescent of his cheekbone, a small darker bruise around a split welt forming under his eye.  _ He was wearing a ring.  _ Michonne thought viciously. 

“Who did this?” Daryl rumbled from where he sat at Rick’s feet on the floor. 

Michonne shook her head for a moment, “Simon.”

“I’ll kill him.” Daryl said. 

“Daryl.” Michonne kept her voice soft and looked at him sadly.

Daryl sensed her gaze and met her eyes and groaned. “We’re not slaves, Michonne. They can’t do this.”

Michonne looked once more at Rick’s thin face. She didn’t understand where this came from. She’d have to talk to Rick when he woke up to see if he remembered anything. 

Nearly three hours later he did wake up. The room was dark and quiet, the afternoon sun peeping lazily through the window offering a dusky light. Rick was curled slightly on the couch, the afghan draped over him. He woke up slowly, eyes blearily blinking into the threads of the couch. Suddenly the pain hit him in a wave and he hissed, cradling his burnt hand. If he stretched his back would tighten and coils of electricity would strike down his legs. He groaned and slowly adjusted himself. Without trying he knew he was helpless to sit up on his own. 

He debated calling out for whoever might be in the house but he heard light footsteps. 

“Daryl…” He muttered. His back coiling tightly at the idea of attempting to move. 

Daryl patted his shoulder gently, “I’m here. Michonne’s upstairs with Judy. Everythin’s fine.”

Rick mumbled in affirmation and blinked sluggishly. 

“How you feelin’?” Daryl knelt by the couch and smoothed Rick’s hair out of his eyes. He peeked through swollen lids from the corner of his eye.

“...Tired.” He groaned. Daryl gently soothed a hand down his back as he inspected the gash on his head. It stopped bleeding and was beginning to scab. 

Wordlessly, Daryl left his side and he immediately mourned the warmth of his hand. Rick must have dozed because he woke up to both Michonne and Daryl’s voices in the kitchen. 

“..Gotta ask him what happened. I think he’s not telling us somethin’.” Michonne said.

“Why would Simon attack him? Why were they even here?” Daryl.

“I don’t know...I dont.” Michonne trailed off. 

“He don’t look good at all…” Daryl sighed.

“He’s doing too much. It’s too much for one man.” Michonne was pouring something. 

A few moments later they stepped into the living room and he shifted as much as he could, enough to show he was awake. 

Michonne’s face had been drawn but her smile was still loving when she saw his eyes open. “Hey, sweetheart. How’re you doin’?” She sat on the edge of the couch behind him and pet gently at his hair and face.

He kissed her palm in response and looked up at her. Daryl was sitting on a dining room chair he pulled nearby. 

“Sit up, baby? Drink something.” She stood to give him room and to gently guide him but it was clear he could barely move himself. Daryl immediately stood and carefully pulled Rick up to sit, humming his apology when Rick gasped and flinched hard as he settled. 

The fall had strained him badly, his lower back coiled and possibly pinching a disk in the tumble. The fight had only aggravated the aggressive bruising that he could feel pooling with hot blood. She held the glass to his lips, his shaking hands holding over her hands. He drained the glass slowly. 

He took a deep breath, his dry mouth temporarily relieved. He wet his lips and realized belatedly they were both watching him. He looked from Daryl to Michonne and back. 

“What happened, Rick?” Daryl asked gently. He stiffened. 

He owed them a response. 

He looked at his hand. The burns had been soothed with a salve. The skin is wet and peeling. 

He debated lying. How could he explain it? How much had Michonne seen? Leaving out the really bad parts. Would it still make sense? They would know. They can read him so easily. He’s taking too long to respond now. Fuck. 

He told them everything.


	2. 2

“...Then you were there.” He finished hoarsely. His heart seemed to be trying to catch up with his breathing. He paused for a moment and then he realized with horror that he was crying. 

They said nothing and he quickly covered his face with his good hand and choked back his sobs. Michonne was with him in a breath, sitting next to him and gently pulling him to lean into her. He tucked his face into her shoulder and stiffly settled next to her. That made him more upset, his body not allowing him the comfort to fall into her arms like he wanted to. 

He was grateful they said nothing. Michonne was stroking his hair and his back and he cried until the tightness in his throat eased and he sipped shaky breaths. He noticed Daryl was watching them, watching him. He finally broke their gaze with a hard wet blink and straightened up. What kind of a man was he?

Michonne let him pull away, her arm settling low on his back. Daryl stood suddenly and turned away from them both, taking a few steps and stopping where he stood. Rick swallowed hard. He was weak. He can’t even take care of himself and everyone is expecting him to protect them all. If Michonne hadn’t shown up how far would Simon have gone? Thinking about it made him nauseous. 

“M’sorry…” Rick mumbled weakly. His eyes blinked with exhaustion. He’s pathetic. He can’t lead them. He can’t even stand. 

Michonne hushed him immediately. 

“Don’t you dare apologize.” She spoke softly with an undercurrent of her fire. Then, “This wasn’t your fault, Rick.”

He nodded, his eyes watching Daryl still. Michonne gently held his face and turned him towards her, he swallowed hard and refrained from memories the gesture brought to his mind. 

“This wasn’t your fault.” She held his eyes until he nodded and she kissed him sweetly on the forehead. 

Michonne took a deep breath and smoothed his hair back, they had to remain calm for him. She and Daryl had known there was something more to the attack. Her innards were wound tightly- she couldn’t tell if her heart was racing from rage or fear. If she hadn’t been passing the house the moment she did, who knows what would have happened. She berates herself silently for not following Rick from the beginning.  _ That’s exactly why he did it. They were alone.  _

“What happens now?” Daryl rumbled and finally turned around. They look at him and search his face, which from years of emotional numbness hold no trace of the hurt he feels. The anger shows deeply etched in his scowl and brow. 

Rick just looks at him with his sad eyes. Michonne’s head tilts slightly waiting for an explanation. 

“He’s gonna come back.” Daryl says it plainly. Michonne can feel Rick stiffen and she quietly strokes his back in comfort. 

“We won’t leave him alone.” Rick looks at her and before he can speak she says, “He won’t do anything if someone is watching. That’s why he got you alone in the first place.” 

Daryl seemed unconvinced. Michonne knew the only thing that would placate him is a beheading. 

“Daryl. We still are under the Sanctuary's rule. We gotta deal with this quietly.” Michonne looked to Rick who seemed distant, she nudged him. 

“What do you think, Baby?” Rick looked between them both. He picked at his nails nervously. 

“...Maybe? I don’t know…” He shrugged. They were all silent for a moment. Rick had a sickening realization and he swallowed around the wave of nausea that struck him. 

“He’s not gonna stop.” Rick murmured, looking at the burns on his hand, “He says he’s in charge until Negan comes back. There’s no one to stop him from doing what he wants.” 

“We’re not going to let him hurt you again, baby.” Michonne assured him. He pulled his hand out of hers. 

“He has all the power right now, Michonne. His men will do whatever he says. You can’t get in his way. Please.” Rick shook his head, imagining Simon hitting Michonne like he did him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if they got hurt protecting him.

“Don’t start the martyr shit, Rick.” Daryl snapped and Rick flinched at the sharpness of his voice. 

“Daryl!” Michonne hissed.

“I’m not…” Rick murmured.

“You always take on everything. This is not a fucking debate.” Daryl paced, his rage leaking out. 

“I don’t want him to hurt you because of me,” Rick admitted, “He’s dangerous, Daryl.”

“I don’t want to see you raped, Rick.” Daryl stopped suddenly in front of them both. The word hung in the air like a damnation. Michonne was glaring daggers. Rick looked at him for a moment and swiped at his wet eyes. 

“I don’t want it either…” Rick whispered. “But if it’s between me and everyone else...let him have me. Daryl-” 

Daryl was about to continue but Rick cut him off, “You know I’m right. He knows Michonne saw something. He knows you know. He has us all at his mercy right now. He could take everything from us. You’ve seen how they are. He may kill. We have to do what brings the least damage to all of us."

They were all silent. Rick did make sense. Simon was the leader until Negan returned. If they did anything Simon could call it defiance and his response punishment. It's his word against theirs. 

“Nah. I can’t just let that asshole put his hands on you while I watch. He better not look at you wrong. I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him if he hurts you again-” Daryl growled and shook his head at Rick’s defeated expression, as if his fate were sealed. 

“No, you won’t Daryl. I can handle this. I can’t handle any more deaths because of me. He won’t kill me.” Rick nodded, assuring himself with the frightening knowledge of what Simon does want from him. “Negan will return and things will-”

“Go back to normal, Rick? This is all sick. We aren’t slaves. I ain’t. We give them out food, our guns and now this? Nah. Fuck this.” Daryl was breathing hard, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides. He paced viciously swiping at his mouth with a closed fist. He stopped suddenly and the waves of hot anger echoed off him loudly. 

“Negan is the one who did this, Rick. Remember? You’re gonna let him make you his bitch twice?” It was pure anger. White hot and sizzling but it poured from his mouth too fast to stop. The loss, the grief, the rage, all of it he had felt since that night erupting and spilling onto Rick’s broken expression, his face falling with hurt and embarrassment. 

Michonne was stunned, glaring at him with an expression that froze his spine. 

“Rick. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, I-” His voice lost his bite completely and he crossed to them on the couch to apologize but Rick was struggling to his feet, pushing away Michonne’s concerned hands. They stood inches away but Rick’s eyes were glassy and staring somewhere through Daryl. Hurt like he was, he couldn’t straighten completely. He was smaller than Daryl thought he knew him to be and he realized he hasn’t really been looking at Rick for a long time. He was withering. Daryl held his breath. 

Without a word he limped past Daryl, ignoring Michonne’s concerned voice. He shuffled to the stairs, using the wall to support him. Michonne immediately followed, pushing past Daryl with a huff. 

“Rick- honey, let me help you.” She went to take his arm but he shook her off, shaking his head roughly. He gripped the banister of the stairs tightly and trudged heavily. She followed him up the stairs, keeping her hands ready but not touching him. Daryl stood, hearing them ascend from a distance despite being at the bottom of the staircase. They seemed to be leaving the realm he was wasting away in, devoid of emotion and light. 

Rick broke down when he pushed into their room. His tight-lipped grimace curled and he choked on the sobs that bubbled up his throat. He folded, his arms wrapping around himself as he crumbled to his knees. 

“Baby…” Michonne sunk with him, keeping her distance for now. She didn’t want to smother him. “Breathe sweetheart, please.” His chest heaved, his breaths punching from him as he began to lose control, his sobs stuttering wetly past his lips. 

“Calm down, Rick.” She didn’t touch him but shifted closer. His hands curling into his shirt tightly trembled and twitched. His eyes held wide and unblinkingly boring into the floor. He gasped, his mouth lax before he keened low and hurt. 

“I’m here.” She whispered, “You’re safe, Rick. It’s all gonna be fine-” A deep wail cut her off, desperate and stammering as his body wracked itself, limbs tight and quaking from fear and adrenaline. 

She dared to place a soft hand on his spine. He didn’t react to it, he was locked in his head now. 

“Lie down, Sweetheart. Lie down for me.” He couldn’t hear her. She eased him onto this side, careful to guide his head gently to the floor. He lay curled towards her, his arms still locked in their embrace as he wept. 

She spoke softly, pulling up his sleeve to administer a syringe of sedative she had snatched from the infirmary for this reason. 

“Everything’s going to be fine, Rick. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” She held his arm and smoothly pierced and injected him. His body betrayed no reaction to her words or care. 

She tucked the syringe away and settled behind him, curling her legs behind his and carefully pulling him flush against her. She stroked through his hair and hummed softly for a long time. His tremors eased, his chest heaved once, twice, his breath seemed to be returning to him. 

She soothed him softly as the drugs took effect and his tight limbs eased and he slumped on to the floor in exhaustion. Michonne pressed a kiss to the back of his sweaty hair and stood, quietly stepping outside onto the landing. Daryl was sitting at the foot of the staircase with his head in his hands and she was surprised he didn’t hear her. 

“Daryl.” She said it softly but he whipped around to look up at her. She stared at him but said nothing else, only turning back into the bedroom. He followed carefully, his heart beating rapidly with anxiety. 

He turned the corner and saw Michonne kneeling by Rick, softly panting into the rug with drooping eyelids. 

He crossed to them and squatted low as Michonne guided Rick to settle in Daryl’s arms. He lifted him carefully, barely straining under his lesser weight. He held him close as he approached the bed and eased him onto the mattress, Michonne guided his head. 

Rick was still in his dirty clothes, bloody and rumpled. His jeans hung low on his hips, they were still unbuttoned, the zipper half way open. Daryl grabbed his waistband and gently pulled them down his legs before dropping them on the floor. It took them both to maneuver Rick out of his shirt without jostling him painfully. 

“I’m gonna clean him up.” Michonne left the room to fetch her supplies, leaving Daryl sitting at his bedside. 

Rick was awake but sedated, he seemed comfortable, the drugs inducing his loose limbed daze. Daryl watched him breathe, noticing the careful intake and weak exhale. He may have suffered some cracked ribs between the fall and the attack. 

“Daryl?” Rick murmured, his head nodding as he attempted to look at Daryl. 

“M’here.” He placed a soft hand on Rick’s chest, just above his heart. It beat a steady tempo against his palm. 

“Promise me?” Rick grabbed Daryl’s wrist and held it with surprising strength. 

He was confused for a moment, searching Rick’s eyes for an answer and then sighed deeply. 

“You’ll stand down.” Rick continued and despite his sluggish tongue his eyes were clear. 

Daryl only looked at him and swallowed against the rage and fear he held at bay.

“Please, Daryl. I’m begging you.” Rick squeezed his wrist, his voice thinning in desperation. 

“Don’t beg.” He murmured, then, “Fine.” Rick sighed with what sounded to Daryl like relief and his stomach clenched tightly. 

Michonne returned with a pot of warm, soapy water, rags and a towel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to cut it off here and just put another update out. Enjoy the whump :3 
> 
> If you feel inclined to leave feedback I appreciate your words. Stay safe, everyone.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick, Michonne and Daryl deal with the aftermath of his Attack.   
> Simon returns.

~0~

She placed the bowl down on the night table and sat on the edge of the bed. She soaked the rags in the warm water and twisted it tightly, the water dripping loudly in the thick silence. 

She swiped his brow and cheeks. Gently washing his face clean of residual blood at his lip. She studied his face as she cleaned him. The small scars on his nose and jaw. Residual marks from past encounters. Moving down his neck and chest she cleaned him in silence, noticing with satisfaction that his eyes were closed. Daryl was at the foot of the bed watching them, watching Michonne’s hands soak the rag again and wring it out. 

“Help me.” Michonne whispered to Daryl, he crossed to her and carefully they rolled Rick to his side. He groaned softly, too weak and hurt, unable to resist or help. She softly smoothed the rag on the small of his spine and he whined and twitched. 

“Easy, baby.” She dropped the rag in the bowl and placed her hands on either side of the growing blood bruise. Placing her thumbs on either side of his spine she carefully palpated down each vertebrae. 

“Ahh- Michonne…” Rick gasped and jerked, his head turning into the pillow to bury his hurt sounds. He hated feeling so fragile. 

She stopped, smoothing her cool palm in gentle circles on the hot skin. 

Despite the sedative he grimaced tightly and held his breath until the wave of pain passed. Daryl knelt on the bed and held Rick at the shoulder and hip to keep him on his side. 

She stood and grabbed the waistband of his boxers to finish his bath. His hand shot out to her wrist, stopping her movement. 

“Rick, what’s the matter?” Michonne used her free hand to smooth a hand across his flank, attempting to soothe his skittishness.

He just shook his head, his throat bobbing nervously. 

She took his hand and removed it from her wrist, kissing the knuckles and placing it on the bed.

“Relax, honey. You’re fine.” Michonne assured him. She lowered his boxers, sliding them off his legs and discarding them with the rest of his clothes. 

“I-please-” He muttered nervously, his hands moving to cover his modesty. They trembled. Daryl could feel him twitching and attempting to curl in on himself. He kept his hands light, encouraging him to still with soft traces.

“Baby?” Michonne soothed, shaking her head, “It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe, sweetie.” She pushed her fingers through his damp curls and smiled. His bottom lip trembled and he managed a watery smile that broke as quickly as it formed. Taking mercy on his fragile dignity she wrung out the rag, and tenderly removed his hands, carefully and quickly cleaning him. He shivered, the water and rag devoid of any trace of warmth. 

She drew the sheet across his body. Daryl isolated behind Michonne, giving space and some semblance of privacy. He wasn’t good at comforting and he doubted Rick wanted him near him after what he said. 

Rick shivered still, his breath hitching tearfully. Michonne wasted no time in placing the supplies on the nightstand and crawling on the bed beside him. She tucked a strong arm around him and held him tenderly.

“Try and sleep, honey. I’ll stay with you.” She adjusted her position to accommodate the long moments she may have ahead of her. Then, “Are you in pain still?”

Rick considered lying. He deserved it. He’s not going to be selfish and take more supplies from his people. Put them even more at risk? He was no leader. He shouldn’t be crying.

“M’fine.” He muttered. Daryl noted the tremble in his voice and swallowed against the guilt that swarmed him. 

Michonne sighed, “Yes or No, Rick?” She knew he wouldn’t give her a straight answer unless she gave him no choice. “I mean it, Rick. If you’re in pain you tell me and you tell me how bad.” 

She had leaned up on an elbow and was very seriously looking Rick in the eyes. She knew how he thought. Years together now, through trauma after trauma has led them to understand each other intimately. She knew his pride. How he would be aching and limping and refusing to let anyone carry his pack. She’s seen him starving, but feeding his portions to Judy or Carl. She read him easily- he was ashamed of himself. He felt weak. He felt broken. And now Simon was humiliating him. 

“m’okay, m’okay…” He assured her, completely unsure of himself. 

“Rick.” She spoke firmly, “Tell me the truth.” His nervous eyes found hers for a moment and he swallowed hard.

“M’head… an’ back-” his breath caught wetly in his throat. “S’real sore-” She was already pulling the sheet back and rifling through the bedside drawer before pulling out one of the bottles Daryl had pillaged weeks ago. 

She eased an arm underneath his head and tilted him up, pressing the small pill past his lips and then the glass. He drank obediently and swallowed. Daryl was at the window, watching a bolt of lightning silently streak across the horizon. 

“Muscle relaxer, it should help some.” She eased him back down. Outside the dusty sky greyed with the beginnings of a distant storm rumbling in the distance. It would rain for the rest of the afternoon by the sound of the approaching thunder. 

Michonne curled behind him and kissed the back of his neck, curling her fingers in his hair and humming gently into his ear. Daryl allowed himself a moment to watch them both, to see Rick’s eyes close as Michonne calmed him. He sighed, exhausted and drained. He slipped out the door without a word. 

~0~

The days crawled by on bloody knees. Rick sweated out the nights and had kicked through his nightmares until Michonne would rouse him. He’d curl into her and groan, shaking through waves of pain and nausea. He’d barely eaten. Daryl and her took turns forcing water in him until she had enough and stole an IV from the infirmary. Rick didn’t say a word when she took his arm. He limply observed her movements and the swift puncture of the needle. Her eyes were dark, puffy from sleepless nights soothing him. 

Twice he’d wet himself in the night. His nightmares doused him for hours under the haze of Simon’s fingers and tongue. His fucked up psyche inverting his own fears and forcing him through the heat of wet breath and thick rough fingers. He’d awaken but it was too late, the urine ran hot down his leg and he howled, slamming his fists into his thighs. Michonne grappled with him until he calmed, his anger fading away into pitiful hiccups and Michonne belatedly realized the extent of his nightmare. 

“Awh, baby…. It’s fine, Rick.” She pulled herself from the bed and started stripping the sheets, then his clothes. Her practiced movements invaded him suddenly and in his half-conscious anxiety struck out a stiff leg, catching her in the side. Fortunately for her he was weak enough to be handled and she spoke calmly despite her spiked heart rate. 

“It’s me, It’s me- I’m sorry, baby…” She soothed a hand on his thin hip and gave a comforting squeeze into the cold flesh. He whined as she cautiously stripped away his sweats, it was easier to not worry about boxers since he still didn’t have the movement to change himself. She folded the pants and dried him with the clean parts. 

Michonne was fumbling through the drawers in the dark, searching through touch for another pair of sweats when Rick’s strangled voice pierced the shadows, 

“I can’t do this-” She paused, the emotion in his voice frightening her still as glass. 

“Michonne,” he cried and she could see his silhouette on the bed, sprawled on his stomach and stuttering with forced breaths. 

She knelt at the bed, swiping his sweaty curls and feeling her heart break in her chest. 

“You’ll heal, Rick. Just need a little time to-” 

Rick must have kicked out because he jostled her roughly and spit with venom and fear, “He’s gonna - I see him coming, I know he’s gonna- gonna hurt me-” He stumbled over his words, his head shaking in attempt to erase the image in his head of Simon’s smile, the smell of his clothes. 

“Rick- I’m here. You’re safe with me, baby. I’ve got you-” She held him closely the rest of the night, curling behind him and pulling them both to sit up on the pillows so she could rock him. He cried himself to sleep, like he’s been every night he wakes up from these nightmares. His head eventually lolled back against hers. Her eyes slid to the clock on the nightstand- 4:15 AM. 

~0~

He was walking on his own now and he was grateful to be independent. Michonne was suffering with him, for him. Neither of them had slept peacefully recently. Rick cringed each time he was reminded of how he sounded waking up from the nightmares, the smell of the sheets. _ Coward.  _ But he could stand up now, as long as he was careful and he was managing to shuffle around the house. He berated himself for being an invalid when he should be out with Daryl, Jesus and Aaron hunting for supplies for the tribute. He could do his best to clean the house while Michonne rested. He’d promised her not to over exert himself but he couldn’t stand being in bed another day. 

His hand stung as he washed the dishes, the burn still blistered although it has healed up since the incident to a duller pink. The fluid had drained and he had most of his function, he needed to feel like he had a body again. 

Daryl and him haven’t spoken since he’d make him promise to not interfere with Simon’s advances. It’s an impending reality that he is aware he’s not at terms with. He has now suppressed his fear in numbness, refusing to acknowledge the truth that he must face in five days. It’d be hopeful to assume Negan would return in time before anything went too far. He can’t feel the warmth of the water sluicing over his hands. He’s aware from a distance, as if these hands aren’t his flesh-- that they are extending out, tracing over porcelain and steel. 

His heart would pound in his chest when he’d turn a corner or hear the house creak and settle.  _ This is ridiculous.  _ He’d huff in self-annoyance. He knew logically he’d didn’t have control over any of their situation but now it was suffocating. Simon came too close. He’d tasted Rick once already and now he had to wait and burn up inside for the gates to open to only be pillaged. Daryl’s words still twisted deep in his gut. Even on the road he’d never been so helpless. Out there he could kill his enemy with his bare hands if need be. Trapped in their gate; Simon currently owned all their lives. He had the power and the force necessary to completely decimate them. Pick up was in five days. It felt like a death sentence. Here he was, after years of trauma and the end of the world and he was washing dishes in a house waiting to be-- raped. His body drained of all warmth and he swayed dizzy. The glass slipped from his hand and crashed in the sink shattering and echoing loudly. 

“Fuck-” he flinched and cursed to himself quietly. 

He sighed when he heard the upstairs door open and Michonne’s concern, “Rick, are you-”

“I’m fine, I just-” he called and slammed the dishrag down running a heavy hand down his face. 

“What happened?” He could hear her coming down the stairs. 

“NOTHING.” He roared suddenly, the guilt and fear and rage swarming him. His thin stability threatened to follow the shards in the sink. Judy’s cry filled the swelling silence. 

He trembled fiercely, releasing tight breaths and silently thanking Michonne for quieting Judy. He’s a mess.  _ What the fuck is the matter with you? All this bullshit and he didn’t even do anything to you yet?  _ The kitchen still hummed with the undercurrent of the attack. The tile was cracked from the skillet. The handle of the oven door had been loosened and hung askew from when Simon had slammed him into it. The air stuck to him like thick laps of a foreign tongue.

Judy had settled quickly with a few quiet moments in Michonne’s arm and she gratefully tucked her back in. She closed the door softly, mindful of how it creaked. The silence around her sunk into her skin. She’s felt this-numbness, for a long time. 

She found Rick outside, sitting on the small back porch. The kitchen had been left halfway cleaned, the dishes still dripping with suds. The shattered glass still strewn in the sink. 

She let her feet fall on the floor loud enough for him to hear her approach. She opened the screen door and let the sun strike fully on her face, warm her eyes through her closed lids. 

She settled close to Rick on the step, pretending to not notice how he tensed. 

“You can talk to me, Rick. Tell me what you’re feeling?” She didn’t look at him, she leaned back on her hands and watched the clouds morph and pass. His eyes seemed to focus inward, deep within himself for a long time. She said nothing, offering her silent support despite her sloping shoulders. 

Ages later, he spoke hoarsely, “Don’t watch, Michonne. Whatever happens, I can take it. But you don’t watch. I can’t have you see me like that.” His features were cold. His helplessness drained her bloodless. 

“Rick-” He took her hand and kissed it twice before nuzzling it to his cheek. 

“I love you. So much, and I’m so sorry about all this shit. All of it. Everyone we lost, Everyone I got killed-”

“Baby, don’t-” Michonne shook her head. 

“I know the truth. I know what I’ve done. I don’t know what he’ll do. But please, stay away and don’t watch. Please, Michonne.” He faced her but didn’t meet her eyes, they were weighted to the ground under the gravity of his guilt. 

She silently prayed, that if there was still a god, if in her whole life she had ever done anything to deserve mercy, for it to be granted to Rick. They watched the clouds pass overhead with little thought, only peripherally aware that time was slowly slipping away.

_ Five days later. _

He hadn’t slept that last night. Every position, every new adjustment only reminded him of how foreign he felt in his own body. Soon the birds were chirping and the morning light sliced through the thin drapes. He rose stiffly. His skin was too tight as he stretched and shuffled to the bureau. What clothes should he wear?  _ Fuck. _ Suddenly he found himself darkly considering which clothes he didn’t mind losing in a possible “encounter” with Simon. 

He dressed mechanically. Buttoning his shirt and jeans took the extra effort of forcing his trembling fingers to steady. His chest crushed under the threat that was about to waltz through the gate that he would open. Michonne had been awake for several hours now, listening to him whimper and huff into the sheets. She sat up on his side of the bed and pulled him to her by his wrist. 

“Hey, baby,” She smiled at him and smoothed the scruff on his cheek fondly. She did her best to show her love instead of fear in her eyes. 

He stared through her. 

~0~

All too soon the trucks rumbled in through the open gates, disturbing a small flock of vultures that feasted on a forgotten undead corpse outside the gate. The black tar trucks and loud men poured in and grinned among themselves, as if they knew a secret. Rick’s gut clenched tightly to compensate for his weak back. He forced himself upright and attempted to appear strong and confident like the leader he wanted desperately to become. If he swallowed his fear and convinced everyone that he could handle this then maybe he might actually stand a chance. He spotted Simon immediately. His dreams had made him frighteningly and intimately aware of how Simon moved, his face, his posture. He locked eyes with Rick immediately and his lips curled into one cheek. Rick swallowed hard and had to force himself to approach Simon despite his knees threatening to fold underneath him. 

Michonne and Daryl remained vigilant and followed a few steps behind before halting. Rick forced himself to meet Simon’s eyes and nodded once. 

“Your girlfriend doesn’t trust me now?” Simon’s grin faltered for a moment, likely remembering the murderous glare of her eyes when she caught him. 

Rick didn’t attempt to answer, only swallowed and dropped his eyes when Simon’s was exploring his too deeply. 

Simon’s gaze flicked somewhere behind Rick and he could see the fire ignite in his eyes. 

“Mmm, looks like she wants to kill me.” Simon leaned in with a strange look, “Or fuck me.” He laughed and landed a heavy hand on Rick’s shoulder, making him flinch and he scowled darkly, stiffening under Simon’s hot hand. His boldness covered up the tremor in his hand, Rick could hear it in the pitch of his thin laugh that lacked his usual hackle. 

Rick felt nauseous as he led Simon to the tribute. Michonne and Daryl followed at a distance, they kept their presence known. Simon followed Rick silently. They crossed the square and most of the morning crowd that gathered to watch for any action had thinned to the inner circle, the politicians among them left to examine and collect their payment. At the entrance to the pick up stockroom two large guards lurked and glared them down. Simon came prepared for a possible retaliation with tighter security than usual. Rick’s self concerning paranoia blinded him until now to a dawning realization- there were significantly more men at this pickup. Men he doesn’t recognize. Most of the usual bullies were absent. The awareness prickled his uneasiness but he continued to stride forward, lips stiff. He cast a quick glance and caught Daryl’s sharp eyes focused on him. He entered and secretly allowed himself to be relieved when he heard Michonne and Daryl’s footsteps continuing behind them. 

The collection had passed with little actual interaction with Simon. The trucks were loaded and he had said little more to Rick than the odd inquiry on an unlabeled can of food. Michonne and Daryl circled and stayed out of the way although he felt their eyes on him often. The last door closed with a thump and the final sound of the latch. The racks had been rifled and stripped. Rick barely mourned the loss anymore. It was a new reality, a tax. Suddenly he was aware of Simon approaching and he straightened up. 

“Excellent doin’ business with ya’, Rick.” Simon flashed a toothy grin and noticing Michonne and Daryl’s perked attention, winked. 

Daryl’s eyes flashed with murderous fire, his whole being flaring though he held himself back with a soft gruff growl. Simon raised a brow but didn’t comment. He seemed mostly amused. 

A few Saviors hung around still, Michonne and Daryl were now very much in the present space with them and waiting. Simon was considering each of them, a strange smirk on his face he took a deep breath and nodded to himself. 

“Jeb? How’d our folks here do? Everything accounted for?” Simon’s voice was odd. Rick’s heart quivered at the strange instinct to run. A large man in dark denim, presumably Jeb, nearly as tall as Simon but heavier approached and handed the inventory clipboard to him. 

“Mostly.” Jeb rumbled, his eyes measuring them up, and roaming Michonne’s body suggestively before settling on Rick. 

“He’s the killer? The one Negan broke?” Jeb’s eyes never left Rick’s, Rick’s eyes fell at that word-  _ broke. _

“Yeah, he’s the one.” Simon regarded the list briefly and tutted to himself. “Oh? It seems you fell a bit short.”

None of them said a word. Perhaps it’s a sixth sense, the quietude that overcomes you in the moments before chaos. 

The next moment Michonne and Daryl were separated with guns pressed to their heads, a Savior on each. They were forced to their knees and raised their arms silently, their faces draining bloodless. Rick’s neck seared with fear, Jeb’s weapon trained on him, he sucked in tight breaths, his chest closing up on him. 

“Door.” Simon muttered and two saviors took position at either exit and locked the latch. All of them were openly armed now. Simon crowded into Rick’s space, the window blinds muting the dusty shafts of morning light, darkening his silhouette. 

Simon took a moment to look down on Rick, his white-kuckled grip on the counter he was leaning against, the coiled shoulders and bowed head. He was close enough to hear his forced breaths and reached a hand to his cheek. Rick shifted away but froze, Simon stroked the last hues of the bruise on his cheek gently. He stare locked on Simon’s shoes, larger than his own and far too close. Simon’s hand wandered to the nape of his neck and curled his long fingers gently into the curls he found. His other hand slipping under his arms, against his ribs and trailing to his waist, he stepped even closer and Rick couldn’t suppress the shudder that overcame him as if he had just been drowned in freezing water. His body quaked hard as Simon’s hand in his hair twisted into a firm grip and bared his throat for him to mouth in front of everyone. Pure horror overcame poor Rick, his nervous hands rising to put distance between them but he knew this was it. He couldn’t withhold the strangled, pained noises Simon wrung out of him as he molested him and undressed him. 

“Please, please- not here. Let them go, let them go-” Rick cried, his voice shrill and thin with fear. Simon chuckled, his arms locking Rick in a vice against him. 

“Can’t do that, honey. I want them to watch.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! Here, some more whump
> 
> Ive been trying to think about how best to continue and I am fairly confident I have a plan now lmaoooo 
> 
> Please enjoy!


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you all for your support, I appreciate your feedback. This chapter is RATED M+. Warnings in this chapter for graphic depictions of rape/non-con elements, violence, language etc. If that's what you're here for, please enjoy. It only gets worse before it gets better folks! Let me know what you think :)
> 
> This chapter is shorter than the others because school is kicking my ass and life is hard but I wanted to give you something. I will do my best to update regularly. Please stay safe!

Rick’s body seized with fear. He struggled for air with shallow, rasped breaths, his tender ribs straining. Simon crowded him sharply into the counter using his greater weight to keep Rick still. One searing hand pressed hard between Rick’s shoulder blades, crushing his chest against Simon’s and he could feel both their hearts pounding against one another. 

“S-simon, I...Plea-” Rick choked. His vision tunnelling to Simon’s dark eyes as he was overwhelmed with dizziness; a fainting nausea overcame him in waves. Simon’s hand suddenly cupped him, palming his penis and then sharply slotted his hot mouth against Rick’s. Angry fingers closed on his throat and clenched as Simon fucked his tongue into Rick’s helpless mouth--he gasped for air in between the sucking and teeth biting. He gripped at Simon helplessly, unable to do nothing more than attempt to hold his arms back weakly. 

Simon broke the kiss with a final bruising bite that drew a sharp sting of blood, enough to drip down Rick’s chin. Simon held Rick by a fistful of hair and just looked at him, watched his blue eyes blink tearfully, pinched in anxiety and fear, and he soaked it in. He flipped Rick over, cracking his head down hard against the counter with the fistful of his hair as he rolled his hips hard against him. Rick felt his nose crunch against the unforgiving counter and slumped-vision black. 

There was a deep growl from behind him, “Motherfucker-” and then the swift thud of Jeb knocking Daryl in the back of the head with the butt of his glock. Daryl crumpled to his hands and knees and Jeb planted a heavy boot in his back, flattening him to the floor. 

“Stay down or I’ll make you eat my gun, fucker.” Jeb growled and Daryl, smartly, didn’t move. 

Simon chuckled darkly in Rick’s ear, grinding obscenely against him still, “No one can save you. You belong to me, Rick. You’re mine.” Rick nodded against the counter, dipping in and out of consciousness as the blood flowed down from the gash on his brow and blinded him. Simon reached around and squeezed Rick’s penis hard, kissing his neck with a smirk when he bucked underneath him. He did it again harder, because he could, and wrung out a sharp yelp and a frantic struggle as he cruelly twisted Rick’s flaccid manhood. 

“Stop hurting him! Stop fucking hurting him please-” Michonne pleaded, dropping to her hands and slamming a futile fist into the ground, mouth hanging in horror as Simon tortured Rick. Jeb kicked out her knees from underneath her, “Stay down, bitch, I’d hate to hurt you.” 

Rick bucked frantically, pushing up hard against the counter and slamming his head into Simon’s with a brutal crack in the struggle. He finally released his grip to push Rick back down to the counter, Rick’s body shuddering with relief for only a moment because Simon’s chest is pressing into his back and he bites harshly into the tender muscle of the junction of Rick’s neck and shoulder. Michonne gasps at the scream he pulls from Rick, long and suffering and tapering off into soft cries when Simon slowly eases his jaw, lapping at the indentations and breaks in the skin before kissing it tenderly. He rose up, smoothing his hand over Rick’s head and down his spine as he grinds slow circles into him. He grasps each wrist and pins it to the small of Rick’s back, snapping on cuffs he produced from his waistband. He pauses his movements and regards Rick, drunk on his own power, he lets his head hang back and breathes deeply, intoxicated on the smell of blood in his mouth and the warmth of Rick’s soft body underneath him. 

His blood is coursing through his veins with a rush he hasn’t felt so strongly in his life. He was high on blood power, he could take whatever he wanted. Rick was a tough bitch. That made breaking him all the more satiating. Physically, he was weak underneath him. Pliant and submissive and warm. The struggle had aroused him immediately, he throbbed swollen and hard in his tight jeans. He’d been dreaming of this moment for weeks. He deserved to enjoy his conquest fully, like Negan would. 

He pulled Rick off the counter and onto the floor, he landed harshly, too incapacitated to catch himself; his knees broke the fall before he slumped to the side, his head lolled against the concrete. Rick turned on his belly, tried to crawl away, unable to lift himself onto his knees it was more of a desperate slither to put distance between Simon and himself but he only managed a few inches before Simon’s boots thudded towards him and he curled in on himself, tucking his face into his arms. 

“Get on your knees. Get the fuck up.” Simon growled and grasped him by the hair, hauling him up to his knees, pressing his face harshly into his groin. Rick yelped when his nose pressed against Simon, his eyes flooding with tears. He didn't feel like he was in his own body. At some point his mind had separated and he slipped into the instinctual autopilot he often succumbed to when living on the road. His vision was blurred, between the blood in his eyes and the pain he could barely see anything. He knew from the cruel hand in his hair that Simon had him again. He heard the slide and clink of a buckle coming undone and a zipper. 

“Open your mouth, baby.” Rick clenched his jaw, lips pressing tight as he felt Simon’s penis press at his lips. He turned his head away immediately but was helpless to stop him. Simon kept his grip firm in his curls and smacked Rick’s face, snapping his head to the side, his mouth falling open in shock, Simon thrust inside, gripping Rick’s face with both hands. 

“Good boy, give me your mouth.” Simon groaned and grinned as he rolled his hips over Rick’s hot tongue. 

Daryl shook with rage, glaring as Simon raped him. He shouldn’t watch, that’s what Rick wanted. He could have choked on his guilt, if Rick had to suffer through it, he’d watch, just to remember when he’d eventually kill Simon. Michonne couldn’t breathe. She watched too. 

He fucked Rick’s mouth obscenely in the quiet of the room. The other Saviors all watching, enraptured. Rick gagged hard, violently, when Simon only pressed in deeper. He kept a steady pace in and out, full deep thrusts that gagged Rick each time.

“Take it all, that’s it. Such a good cocksucker.” Simon praised and laughed when Rick flinched at the insult. 

He was large and Rick’s mouth was stretched wide, threads of drool dripping off his lips. Simon slowed, his features becoming drawn inward as he’d press in and hold himself deeply in Rick’s throat, his knuckles blanching white in the effort to hold his head still. Rick struggled and retched loudly, guttural and wet noises that made Michonne flinch. 

Suddenly Simon turned them both towards the cabinets, using his hips to press and walking Rick back to push him flush against the counter. Rick’s head was pinned to the cabinet by Simon’s hips, each roll only would knock his head against the wood so he kept his skull firmly pressed back, forcing himself to take Simon’s full length. 

Michonne wouldn’t be able to get the sound of Rick’s desperate retching and the crack of his skull against the wood as Simon picked up the pace to what evolved to a brutal claim. Simon went rigid, with a few final thrusts he came down Rick’s throat who helplessly convulsed as he choked and was forced to swallow. The room was thick with rage and disgust. Simon released Rick, who slumped to his side and landed hard on his shoulder, his arms still cuffed. He spit and dry heaved, coughing and gagging as he tried to catch his breath. Simon had tucked himself away, fixed his clothing before reaching down to undo the cuffs. Rick froze as Simon unlocked them and his arms fell to his sides, he made no further movements.

Simon stood fully and stepped back. Straightening his clothes and adjusting himself, he tucked the cuffs back into his pants. He swiped away the blood on his mouth, leaving splotches in his beard he regarded Michonne and Daryl with dark, lust blown eyes. He looked manic. Evil. 

Simon regarded Rick with a final, nearly fond expression before silently signaling and suddenly they were gone. The three were left alone, haunted by the gaping silence that followed the click of the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the aftermath of Simon's second encounter. Daryl reaches out to Carol to help tend to Rick's injuries, bringing her into the circle. Warnings for graphic descriptions of bodily harm and tending to injuries involving blood and naked body.  
> *These descriptions are based on research and I am not a medical professional, I do my best to provide an accurate account but if I am ever incorrect please do offer constructive criticism in the comments. 
> 
> Stay safe out there~

Rick attempted to stifle his tears by biting his own fist. The air settled in the vacuum Simon left and he snapped back into his body full force; a terrible wail punching out of him as he allowed himself to cry. His thin chest fluttered with desperate breaths; he spit blood on the floor and shuddered, moaning into his hands. Michonne forced herself forward despite her own shock, crawling to him quickly. Daryl pushed himself up with an effort as Michonne reached Rick, and secured the locks on all the entrances. 

The infirmary was in the same building, just down the hall, he stumbled in, distantly aware of his own shock at witnessing his best friend, his brother- raped in front of them both. He filled a glass with cool water and soaked a rag down, wringing it tightly, his own hands shaking, before returning to them both in the room. Michonne was leaning against the low cabinets with Rick sitting between her legs, held close to her chest with his face tucked into her neck. Daryl steeled himself against the frantic and hurt noises Rick was gasping. He knelt beside them both, giving Michonne’s shoulder a squeeze of comfort before stroking Rick’s hair back. She gently stroked the side of his bruised face and despite his initial flinch and fear he cautiously faced them and was looking, rather desperately, for kind eyes. The bite on his shoulder oozed dark blood and Daryl tempered his rage and knelt beside them. Michonne was gently rocking them, stroking his back and trying to calm his frantic sobbing. 

“Easy, baby. I’ve got you, Rick.” She hummed low speaking soft assurances, hugging him to her and willing him to calm. He leaned heavily on her, fingers clinging desperately where he could grasp. Daryl put a hand on Rick’s arm with the bite and he didn’t pull away, he kept his eyes down on Daryl’s hand, mouth agape and still gasping for breath. They stayed together there until Rick’s sobbing tapered in his exhaustion and he slumped in her arms, sipping shaky wheezing breaths. 

“Rick, can you hear me?” Daryl gently squeezed his arm, stroking his thumb over cold skin. “Hey- Rick?”

There was a delay but then, “Daryl-?” He gruffed with effort, his breath laboring to speak above a whisper. 

“I’m here. We got ya’.” Daryl’s voice betrayed his guilt, thin and wet. Rick swallowed sorely and winced sharply.

“Here, drink.” Michonne steadied his head while Daryl bought the glass to Rick’s bloodied lips and tipped it down his throat. He drank carefully, grimacing as he swallowed, breathing through his mouth between small shaky sips. Daryl studied his swollen face as he drank and imagined all the ways he would make Simon pay. Rick whimpered, his chest heaving in quick, desperate breaths, his eyes and nose were swollen with blood, dark bruises already forming under his eyes. His nose was broken, curving abnormally, it bled sluggishly and dripped into his open mouth. His whole body coiled tightly in pain as he hissed. His trembling fingers were clenched tightly into Michonne’s clothes. 

“Help me git’em up.” Daryl crouched in front of them and they carefully maneuvered Rick between them and managed to get their shoulders under his arms and haul him up. They brought him to the infirmary, keeping a strong grip as he stumbled and dragged between them. When they reached the bed Daryl took his weight, holding Rick against him, his chin hooked over his shoulder as Michonne lifted his legs onto the cot. Daryl held his head and eased him back, hushing him as he flinched and struggled to stay up, crying out softly. 

“Take it easy, lay back.” Daryl grasped his wrists where he was clinging to him still and stroked the thin skin of his wrist until he slowly released his grip. His vision was blurred, the blood and tears literally blinding him, he caught glimpses of Daryl and Michonne’s features but still squinted under the harsh light. Michonne was leaning over him and carefully wiped the blood pooling in his eyes, then his brow and lips. He blearily watched, detached and sluggish under her. 

Daryl cut half the lights, noting Rick’s squint ease slightly. A cool cloth was laid over his eyes and he groaned at the throbbing pressure in his head. His face throbbed, his mouth swollen and tasting of Simon still, the realization provoked an overwhelming wave of sickness and he shot up, turning his head down as he retched. The rag falling to the floor. 

“Ah, fuck- easy, Rick.” Daryl hissed in sympathy as he saw the violent cramping in Rick’s side as he retched again. “Breathe-” Bloody drool clung to his lips but he drew in a controlled breath and sighed, moaning as the wave slowly passed. 

Daryl gave him a moment before he eased Rick up to sit, leaning against the pillows. Michonne fetched a fresh one and returned to soothe him, tears painting her own cheeks as she attempted to hold it together for Rick who looked on the verge of fainting. His breaths were still hitching and they all took a moment to process everything that just happened. It didn’t seem real, it was too horrific. He was in shock, his mind retreated still, he felt himself distantly forming the words as if talking in his sleep. 

“Why? Why…?” Rick rasped. He confusedly looked at his own hands in his lap and blinked wetly. Michonne fell apart next to him, delicately laying her hand over his own. 

“I’m so sorry. Baby, please-” Michonne caught herself and swiped her face, she didn’t know what to say. He seemed far away, now that she could see his eyes, she could see his disconnection still. 

“Rick?” Daryl asked, keeping his voice neutral. Rick’s lips were slowly moving silently but after a moment he looked at Daryl, then Michonne, but quickly closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands.

Michonne said nothing, and didn’t attempt to remove his hands. She kissed his head and wrapped her arms around him, breathing the smell of his hair in deeply. Her own guts twisting at the scent of fear and blood left behind. 

Daryl looted through the cabinets, they didn’t have much, nothing worth locking up. Hydrocodone was the best he could find. He shook the bottle and felt his guilt grow- sounded like less than 10 pills in the jar. He opened it- 8. Shit. He emptied two into his palm and sealed and pocketed the rest. 

Rick’s hands were down, head and shoulder slumping into the pillows, “Take this.”

Rick dizzily looked at the pills he offered before they locked eyes and Daryl hoped Rick could read his heart. Trustfully, he opened his mouth and let Daryl drop them on his tongue, and hold the glass for him to drink with care. He drained it, determined to rid his mouth of the taste and breathed heavily, his emotions rising up within him and overwhelming him, spilling down his cheeks silently. Michonne traced them away with her fingers. 

They both wished to disappear when he saw how Rick’s thin fingers palpated his face in distant realization and hissed sharply at the curve he felt. He whimpered at the throbbing and his eyes watered just at the thought of setting it. 

Michonne gathered Rick’s fingers and warmed them between her own, kissing the bruised knuckles once before settling them in his lap. 

Daryl turned to leave, stopping in the doorway as he felt both their eyes on him. 

Without facing them he gruffed out, “I’ll be back soon,” then disappeared passed the threshold and left out the back. The sun blinded him- it was still morning.  _ Fuck. What the fuck. _ He was floating slightly behind himself, the images and sounds still gutting him as he trudged through the tall grass. He stumbled and dropped to his knees, retching into the dirt. Simon had power. He had men. He knew they’d fight so he had to take all three of them down together. Daryl growled and yanked at his hair in rage before dragging himself up. He walked them all right into the trap. What could he have done? Simon knows they have no means to fight back. Daryl dreaded what the next pickup would bring and he found himself desperately wanting Negan to return. He balled his fists and punched the wall of the house he was passing by.  _ Fuckin’ Prick!  _ He sipped in shaky breaths as he climbed the few steps to the porch and knocked twice lightly with his bloody knuckles, smearing blotches onto the clean white paint. She had bought more plants from the Kingdom a few days ago, where she’d been staying the past few weeks. 

Carol opened the door and her face immediately fell at his state. She stepped aside and he walked in stiffly. 

“What happened? Daryl?” Carol asked carefully, her heart skipping as she laid a hand on him and turned him. 

“Oh, Honey-” She gasped, her own fears worsening at the tears running down his face, her hands reaching for him. 

“Rick’s hurt. Bad.” Daryl swiped his eyes with his fists and sucked in a wet breath, grasping her other hand desperately. “Simon hurt him.”

“Where is he?” She asked, quickly disappearing in her room and returning with a satchel. 

Daryl led her the way he had come, avoiding most people working outside. He looked at his feet as he explained as best he could given his own shock and disgust. Carol said nothing but Daryl could feel her swell with rage. She seethed silently, her heart wrenched for Rick- he didn’t deserve this. 

Daryl quickly unlocked the door and pocketed the key, locking it behind them both before they entered the infirmary. He could see her breath slow purposefully, calming herself before she entered. This wasn’t easy for any of them. 

He curled towards Michonne, facing away from the door. His breathing was calmer, although still wet sounding from the blood in his nose and throat. 

Carol made her way quietly around the bed, but the moment she entered his vision he flinched as if struck and threw his hands up to cover his face. 

“Sunshine…” She tutted and lay a hand on Michonne’s shoulder. Rick’s breath hitched hard and he sobbed low in shame. Michonne petted his hair gently but stood and stepped back so Carol could examine him. 

“Easy, now. Don’t hide from me. Don’t hide-” She soothed and gently touched his trembling hands. She patiently stroked his hands, his wrists and tried a gentle pressure, he tensed but she could feel that he wasn’t going to fight her and guided his hands down to the bed. 

She schooled her expression despite her shock and anger, he was looking right at her. His features pinched and his face wrecked. Simon had been brutal. 

“Shh, I’m so sorry, Rick.” She stroked the curls back from his brow and bent to kiss him gently on the crown; his skin was cold. He was twitching under her lips, his whole body coiled tightly. 

“Did you give him something?” She asked as she opened her satchel and placed a jar of yellow salve on the bedside table. 

“Hydrocodone.” He handed her the bottle. 

“Michonne, we need gauze, tape, packing and a fresh bowl of water.” Carol asked, placing the bottle on the table and stood to wash her hands. 

“Daryl-” Carol returned and they carefully rolled him flat on his back. She gestured to the front of the bed and Daryl knowingly stood at the head of the cot. 

Rick squirmed and Daryl placed a hand on his chest lightly, tracing small circles with his palm. 

“You’re gonna be alright-” Daryl felt his words stupidly inadequate. Rick trusted them intuitively but his body refused to settle. 

Michonne spread the supplies on the table and prepared everything, Rick watched her movements, eyes flitting between her and Carol whose hands were reaching for his face. He wrenched away when her fingertips brushed his jaw, growling and catching both her wrists tightly. 

“Hey-” Daryl concerned that Rick may lash out was quickly reaching but Carol stopped him, “Don’t. It’s okay. It’s fine, Rick.” She spoke softly, in a voice she rarely used outside of the original circle. She didn’t pull away or struggle and after a tense pause he eased his grip and reclined. 

“I’m just gonna look, sweetie. Let me see.” He whimpered between breaths but didn’t move when she reached again and held his face, easing him to face her. She kept her hands on his jaw and observed the crookedness, the bruises spreading from the bridge and darkening under the curve of his eyes. His lips were parted and he was sucking in air shortly through his mouth.  _ Can’t breath through his nose.  _ She grabbed the small flashlight from her satchel and tilted his head back to look inside his nostrils.

“Michonne-” Carol called her to hold Rick’s arms against his side and she settled her arm over his waist. He groaned at being restrained. Daryl wordlessly bent and rested his elbows on the cot, grasping Rick’s skull firmly. He shifted against them weakly, still crying softly under his breath. 

“Can you breathe okay?” She laid a hand on his chest, his heart fluttered quickly and firmly against her palm. She grabbed the scissors and cut away the shirt, her expression blanching at the fresh and faded bruises blackening his ribs. 

“These didn’t happen today.” Carol observed aloud and looked between them both. They both were in shock, looking at her with wide eyes. “Later.” She settled and gently examined Rick’s chest and ribs, following her fingers from the top of his chest, around and to his back as far as she could reach without straining him. His breath was controlled in pain, she could feel the tension he was holding. A blood dark spot on his right flank caused her concern, he may have a fracture. He gasped when she palpated it; she laid her hand flat, the skin was hot and swelling. He inhaled wetly and choked suddenly, coughing and spitting up thin ropes of blood on his chest. Daryl carefully eased him up, holding him steady until the fit passed. 

Carol wiped his lips and chest with a rag. “Open your mouth.” He looked at her, her lips moving and blinked wetly, “Huh?”

“Rick, open your mouth.” He did so, his tongue red with blood. The blood was likely drip from his nose; his throat was deep red and irritated but not bleeding. 

“Okay, I need to feel the break, honey. I’ll let you know when I’m going to set it, okay?” Carol wiped a tear tracing his face. “No surprises.” He swallowed and blinked hard before he managed to look at her but he quickly closed his eyes.

She ghosted her fingers under his eyes and they fluttered wetly. She traced the edges of his nose, carefully, as she noticed his whole body tense, his eyes pinching. She palpated it tenderly and felt confident she could set it. 

She breathed slowly, settling herself. “Alright, breathe deep, Rick.” She took in a controlled breath through her mouth to lead him, he stuttered a breathy reply, struggling to slow down his thin gasps as fear of the pain overcame him. 

“I’m not going to do anything until you’re ready, honey. Take your time. Breathe.” She stroked her thumbs against his cheeks, speaking quietly, “Calm down.” She continued to breathe, encouraging Rick to mimic her. A few minutes pass and he gains some control over the nervous adrenaline leaving his body and catches his breath. 

“Good, Rick. That’s it.” She adjusted her stance and Rick sensed it and opened his eyes, searching her face nervously. 

“Keep breathing, in and out. I’m gonna set it.” She aligned her thumbs against either side of his nose. Michonne felt his arms flex against her grip, his legs shifting anxiously. 

Carol didn’t count, that only makes it worse. She let him breathe deeply a few more rounds and on the end of a long exhale she adjusted the bones into place with a loud crack. 

Fresh blood ran into his mouth as he stifled a howl through gritted teeth. 

“Hold him still-” She felt along his nose despite his intense protests and noticed a further adjustment and expertly finished it with another painful crunch. Rick hollered, eyes screwing shut against the flood of tears and bucking with the aftershock.

“You’re done, sweetie. You did good, Rick.” Carol placed a hand on his heart and soothed its rapid beating. “It’s over.”

Daryl eased his grip and gently stroked his thumb over a tender spot on the back of Rick’s head. He sniffled, his breathing sounded clearer, more natural. Michonne cleaned his face, wiping his lips and nose with tender care and crushing guilt. She felt like they were torturing him. Carol showed her how to roll the packing and press it into his nostrils. He groaned and flinched as they did it but exhaustion was sedating him quickly. 

Carol unscrewed the jar of salve and dipped her fingers before spreading it on his bruises. She taped the dressing over it and gently sealed it to his skin. She and Michonne continued to spread the salve on his chest and ribs. They sat in silence until Rick’s eyes were rolling back but he kept blinking against it and shifting. 

“Rick, stay awake.” Carol tapped his arm, smiling when his eyes lolled to hers blearily. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

His brow furrowed, “Uh, what?” He rasped turning away and moaning, his voice graveled and wrecked from crying and the attack. 

Carol gently eased a hand under his cheek and faced him to her, “Are you hurt anywhere else, Rick?” She was going to check him over completely anyway, but she needed to gauge his mind.

He considered his body, the aches and throbbing, his nose had been the pain overwhelming him but now that it had been set he began to notice an additional source of hurt. His pride was stripped clean to the bone. He was humiliated. His nightmare had been fully realized and he felt violated to his core. He could feel the ghosts of Simon’s rough hands on him, the smell. He swallowed hard. Carol was looking right at him. He could feel all their eyes on him and he felt his own prickle with hot tears and he choked on a hard sob and swallowed that too. He wanted to curl in on himself and disappear. 

Carol didn’t remove her hand but she gave him space. She looked at him sadly- he was a good man. He didn’t deserve this, no one does. Carol threaded her other fingers through his sweaty curls and settled her hand on Daryl’s. 

“Help me get these clothes off of him.” She stroked Daryl’s hand and he was grateful for her steadiness. Michonne was pulling off his boots and socks as Daryl gingerly eased Rick up to sit behind him and smoothed a large warm palm over the cool skin on Rick’s back. He flinched occasionally, it seemed to be more of an anxious twitch, but it was slowly lessening. 

He leaned heavily on Daryl, who now had his arms resting under Rick’s folded ones. Michonne carefully applied the last of the salves that Carol had made to the bruises on his arms and wrists. Carol cleaned away all the bloody gauze and rags, dumping the dark water into the sink. 

Michonne sealed the jar and stood, reaching to unbuckle Rick’s belt. He tensed but didn’t move, didn’t speak. 

Daryl kept his movements calm, but adjusted his arms to hold Rick and his folded arms, against his chest. She tugged carefully on the material and eased it down his legs. Carol was gathering a pair of sweats and a blanket from the closet but came rapidly at the sound of Michonne’s horror and Rick’s struggle. 

“Jesus, baby…You’re okay, you’re okay-” Michonne held him at the hips, his penis and groin had darkened and swelled from Simon’s vicious manhandling; smears of blood blotched the patch of curled hair. He squirmed in their grasp, his face reddening as he saw how Simon had left his body. 

“No, no- Don’t-” Rick was shaking again. The stripping and handling only catalyzing his fragile helplessness. “Please-” he begged. 

“Goddammit-” Daryl hugged him closely, breathing deep enough for Rick to feel, slowly and purposefully, softly and repeatedly instructing Rick to follow as Michonne stripped the jeans down his legs.

Carol approached and touched his lower stomach, laid a palm to gently press below his navel. 

“Does that hurt?” She asked. Rick was watching her intently, his mouth open with anxious whimpering, he shook his head. 

“Can I touch you?” Carol asked. He obviously didn’t want her to, his face contorting as he held back tears. But he did have enough awareness to know they were helping him and he grunted his wary consent. Michonne eased his knees apart so Carol could examine him. She kept her touch light and clinical, examining the skin, touching him and moving him only when necessary to see the full extent of the bruising. The shaft was swollen and darkening, a few small tears on the foreskin and near the base of his testicles had scabbed with small spots of blood. His breathing was tight and his thighs twitched when she pulled back the foreskin, revealing red burns from the inner zipper that had bitten at the skin. His thighs clenched together suddenly and Carol backed off. 

“I’m sorry, Rick. You’re okay.” She drew the sheet over him up to his chest. “He’s bruised badly but the tears are small; I think he would rather you finish, Michonne.”

“Clean the area, the salve will help. Get a cool compress on him as long as he can stand it, reduce some of the pain.” Carol instructed, then, “Daryl, come with me.” He eased from behind Rick and replaced the pillows behind him. Rick grabbed his hand suddenly and looked at him, his blue eyes bloody and red from the beating but still soft and still Rick. 

“I’m sorry-” Rick shook his head and squeezed Daryl’s hand, stopping his unspoken denial. There was nothing else to say. 

“I’m sorry too.” Daryl held his hand for a moment more and drifted into the hallway, empty and numb. Carol gathered some supplies to tend to Daryl and slipped out silently. 

They were left alone and Michonne studied his face, his eyes were down again, tears dropped straight into the sheets, on his hands. His beautiful body was marked with the shadows of Simon’s touch and Michonne wished she could erase all of this, take his pain. 

“I love you, Rick.” She whispered and flinched at the low keen that broke from Rick. She enveloped him delicately to protect his ribs but she kissed his head firmly, and grasped his worn face in her hands. 

“I love you with all I have. Nothing will change that.” He clenched his eyes shut, red with shame and shook his head in her grasp. 

“Look at me, baby. I will never stop loving you.” He cried weakly, “Look at me, please.” He opened his eyes and slowly gathered the courage to raise them to hers. She smiled brokenly, her lips trembling and then she leaned in and gently kissed his lips. 

He pulled away, “Don’t, I’m- I-” She held firm though and didn’t break her gaze.  _ I’m dirty.  _ She could see his disgust. Not at her, but his own body, as if Simon had poisoned his mouth.

“You’re still my Rick.” She kissed his forehead this time, she didn’t want to force anything on him just yet. She soothed him, he calmed with her touch; the trembling wracking him eased slowly as he succumbed to exhaustion. She watched his breathing grow deeper as she traced his skin and his head nodded back as sleep finally, blessedly, took him. 

She cleaned him while he slept. He stirred but didn’t wake. She finished and covered him, turning all the lights off except the emergency and settled in a chair next to him, gently carding a curl around her finger. Despite the peace after the storm, the quiet, she found herself stewing in a boiling rage as her Husband lay tormented in the bed, scarred for life. 

She knew it wasn’t over. They were severely disadvantaged. Any attempt at retaliation could result in murder. They had to be tact. Negan would return, it had to be soon. She watched him sleep. 


End file.
